


Fun In Space

by Morpheus626



Series: My Melancholy Blues [4]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:41:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28356372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: Roger/Reader (gender neutral.) A shared hobby is a lovely thing for a couple, but this particular time, your depression gets in the way of enjoying it. But Roger’s an inventive, sweet, and supportive partner, so he’s not going to let you languish in that hell of not being able to enjoy what you’re doing. No, he’ll find a way to make it good again, and you couldn’t be more grateful to him for it.TW for depression, and as noted above, discussion of how it leeches the joy out of normally beloved activities.
Relationships: Roger Taylor (Queen)/Reader
Series: My Melancholy Blues [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076555
Kudos: 5





	Fun In Space

The house is quiet. As it always is, when you and Roger are both tucked into books.

The issue today, is that you’ve been on the same page for two hours. And the day before, you couldn’t get past that page either.

You do want to read the book. Or you did, at one point. You just can’t summon any urge to actually read now though.

You know it’s a part of the general depression pit you’ve been working to claw your way back out of. Roger’s been plenty supportive as always, but you don’t want to interrupt him now with it. He treasures your time spent reading together.

Even now, you’ve got a hand holding his still, each of you with your books in your other free hand. He’d grabbed for you right as you’d settled down on the bed together, and while his fingers occasionally twitched, or his thumb moved across the back of your hand in a gentle rhythm, he didn’t ever let your hand go.

“Not as good as you were hoping?”

His voice shakes you out of the odd trance you’d settled in, staring at the page without absorbing any of it.

“Um. Something like that.”

He frowns and sets his book down carefully, mindful not to lose his spot. “What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t matter; I’m just happy to be spending time with you,” you try and deflect, but you can’t avoid those blue eyes, searching your face for clues about how you’re feeling.

“That’s well and good,” Roger says. “But it does matter, actually. What’s wrong?”

“I can’t get into it,” you sigh. “Or any book, or anything, for that matter. You know how I’ve been the last few days, how I get when I’m like that. Doesn’t matter what I do, how much I normally like it. It’s like pulling teeth to relax or enjoy anything.”

He takes your book from you, letting go of your hand so he can slip bookmarks into both books before dropping them to the floor by the bed. “Then we’ll take a break from this. No point in it if you aren’t having fun.”

“But you were,” you protest. “We shouldn’t stop just because my broken brain-”

He flashes you a warning glare as he turns back to you, pulling you down to lay on the bed in his arms. “None of that talk. I won’t hear it, you know that.”

“I know,” you reply, and nuzzle against him. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Roger tuts gently. “Just don’t like hearing you talk about yourself like that, is all. Your brain has some trouble, maybe, but it isn’t broken. No one is broken.”

“What about reporters, or music reviewers?”

“Well,” he laughs, and it brings you to giggles too. “I suppose they aren’t broken either. Irritating, assholes, dumb as hell-”

“Okay!”

“I could go on,” he chuckles. “But I won’t. You get what I mean; even they aren’t broken.”

“I wish I didn’t feel broken,” you murmur.

“I wish I could take that feeling from you too,” Roger sighs. “But since I can’t, the least I can do is cuddle you and remind you that you are far from broken.”

He’s warm in your arms, and the love you feel for him in the moment is the strongest thing you’ve felt in days. It’s lovely, and reassuring, and perfect.

“I’ve had an idea,” he says, and presses a kiss to you before awkwardly leaning away and off the bed to retrieve his book. “What if I read to you, hm? Best of both worlds.”

You nod. “You get to keep reading, and I can just lay here, since that’s all I’m good for right now, apparently.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Roger stresses. “Sometimes that’s all we can do, and you know what? That’s fine. You’re here and mine and that’s more than enough.”

“You sweet-talker, you,” you tease as you both readjust. Roger so he can lean against the headboard and pillows somewhat comfortably, his book in one hand. Yourself so you can rest against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as much as his voice.

As he starts in on the chapter he’d been working on, his free hand again finds one of yours, and squeezes it tight.


End file.
